


Breakfast at Nymuë’s

by Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl



Series: Afternoon Tea with Prince Lotor [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:38:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl/pseuds/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl
Summary: Lotor is probably the only one in the history of dating who can’t wait to meet the parents. (Just a fun little fic that happens sometime after season 6.)





	1. Chapter 1

“Cheri, would you like to come home with me to meet my family? My parents are wanting to meet you and in their words ‘would welcome you with open arms and shower you with affection’.” 

The thought of loving parents was so alien to him he couldn’t answer right away. Nymuë knew this was the reason for his hesitation so she simply turned around to face him and held him tightly. He is finally able to manage, “I would like nothing more than that. Will you tell me more about them?”

“Papa is a history professor and he loves exploring the mountains. I think you would get along well with him. Maman is an emergency room nurse and she loves to bake. She will force you to eat until you can eat no more. I have two older brothers: Trajan is an emergency physician and Hadrien is just finishing his doctorate in neuroscience. My parents named them after the second and third of the five good emperors of the Roman Empire. It’s a running joke because my mother’s name, Nerva, coincides with that of the first emperor, who was a man. My dad just couldn’t resist. She hates it when they call her the man,” Nymuë laughs. “Anyway, they took me in when I was 5. My brothers are their biological children. I was so fortunate to end up with such a loving family who cherished reading as much as my birth parents did.”

“I would be delighted to meet them, Nymuë.” Her family sounded as intelligent, empathetic, humorous and kind as she was. He found the coincidence with his mother’s name even more eery than that of Nymuë’s name. 

She spent several weeks securing government approval, travel documents and security clearance for Lotor’s arrival. It was a difficult task to keep such an event from the media but with the help of her father, she managed to covertly organize the entire ordeal. 

Lotor and Nymuë arrive in mid December, just in time to coincide with her brothers’ vacations. Although Trajan lived on his own in the same city, he would be staying at her parents’ house the duration of their visit. As soon as they were walking up the front steps to her parents house, the door flew open and her parents ran out to meet her. Her dad scoops her up in a crushing embrace and kisses her fiercely. 

“Welcome home, love!”

“I’ve missed you, Papa!”

“Lotor, these are my parents, Charles and Nerva.” 

Much to Lotor’s astonishment, her mother fusses endlessly over him, pulling him down to kiss his cheeks, and saying, “Oh you poor child, it is such a shame what you’ve had to endure,” and pulling him into an affectionate embrace. “Welcome to our family, son,” says her dad warmly as he embraces him as well.

Nymuë feels the need to object. “Maman! He is not a child.”

“He most certainly is, Nymuë. You are our child, and now he is too.”

Lotor laughs and says it is alright. 

“He’s definitely a handsome one too. Where did you find such a gorgeous man, Nymuë?”

“Maman!” She cries exasperatedly. Her dad laughs. “Oh, you think that’s embarrassing? Your brothers aren’t even home yet,” he says mischievously as they walk up to the house. “Papa!”

“Come, my children,” says her mother, “let’s get you warmed up and fed.”

Lotor never thought he could feel so much at home on a previously unknown planet. Being called a child by an earthling who was a mere fraction of his age was as blissfully ironic as it could be and he enjoyed every moment of it. So this was what it was like to have a loving mother and father. They never once stopped to judge him by his appearance or race but simply welcomed him as he was. Their warmth radiated through him and he admittedly did not want to leave. 

They had just sat down for tea and pastries when Trajan and Hadrien burst through the door breathless. “Ok, where is this guy? I needed to meet him, like yesterday,” yells Hadrien.

“He’s right here,” calls Nerva. 

“Hey, guys, it’s good...”

“Just a sec, Moo-moo,” he interrupts.

“Hey, I’ve told you not to call me that!” 

Trajan walks over and kisses her as he hugs her. “So glad you’re alright, Mu.”

“Dude,” Hadrien says pulling Lotor into a big hug and kissing both his cheeks, “Nice to meet you. So, how did you do it? You got little Moo-moo to finally open up! I’ve been trying to crack that egg for years now! Tell me your secrets, O great one,” he cries with faux despondency and exaggerates a sweeping bow.

Lotor looks over to Nymuë to gauge how much he could reasonably share. She decides to say, “Lotor writes poetry and is forever a student of history. Nice to see you too, jerkwaffle.” She punches Hadrien in the shoulder. “Ow, hey, I didn’t know you like poetry.” 

“Hey, so what do you do then, Lotor? Are you perhaps a professional writer or a history professor like Père?” asks Trajan. 

Lotor glances over to Nymuë with amusement. Had she not told them much about him? “As much as I would enjoy work in academia, I am afraid ruling over the Galra empire precludes any such luxuries.”

Nerva drops her tray. “You are Emperor Lotor?! I thought your names were just a coincidence!” Both brothers are slack jawed in shock. Charles, however, guffaws and slaps Lotor on the shoulder. “Amazing! Never thought I’d see the day when there were five emperors in the family!” He wipes away a tear from laughing so hard, “That’s great, I love it!” 

“Charles, that is not funny and you know it. For the last time, I am not a man!” protests her mother, to the wicked laughter of the entire family. Even Lotor can’t help chuckling at this one. 

Trajan manages to wheeze out, “The man doth protest too much, methinks,” to peals of laughter.

“Our failure to comply is mandatory!” cries Hadrien.

“Sorry, cherie, where are our manners!” adds Charles.

Hadrien had such severe fits of laughter that he snorted, which in turn sent Nymuë into hysterics. Soon everyone was laughing at them instead and couldn’t stop until their stomach muscles protested. Lotor couldn’t remember the last time he found something so funny. 

When Hadrien finally recovers, he wraps Nymuë in a headlock and rubs his knuckles into her skull. “Fucking hell, Moo-Moo. You get lost in the far reaches of space, scare the ever loving fuck out of us, fight in a real life Star Wars and come back as an empress? You fucking counterfeit retooled rapscallion, who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Lotor was beginning to see where all her attitude came from.

“Hey, you amorphous froward fuckfish, he wasn’t emperor at the time I met him.” She glances over at Lotor, who couldn’t stop laughing. “He was a fugitive Prince and actually saved all of our lives by betraying the empire. The ion cannon on his ship was the only thing powerful enough to break the shields of the battle cruiser that was about to destroy us. And then he saved me from myself. Even Lotor doesn’t know how close I was to succumbing to the anguish inside.”

Nerva steps up to Lotor and again pulls him into an embrace. “Thank you so much for saving our little girl. Please tell us what happened.”

As they are bringing out dinner, a tabby cat jumps into Lotor’s lap and decides to take up temporary residence there. 

“Oh, that’s just Julius Caesar, don’t mind him, he’s a mind-numbing, indolent sloth.” says Nymuë wearily. 

“Yeah, Père decided to name him after a weak Roman emperor, who might be considered evil simply because he, by omission, failed to right the evils of the Roman Empire,” says Trajan. “Basically, he’s so lazy, he even fails as a cat.” Everyone chuckles a bit at this. 

“One might say he’s a catatonic failure,” Lotor says plainly to the loud cackles and cheers of her brothers. “Since, since when did you pun?!” screeches Nymuë. 

Lotor shrugs his shoulders. “I would have to say your family was the catalyst.” Her brothers were beside themselves. Hadrien gives him a high five. 

“Aw, come on Moo-moo, it’s not as catastrophic as you think!” grins Hadrien.

“Incidentally, I also have tales of an evil cat,” grins Lotor slyly as he nods in Nymuë’s direction. Both brothers slide their chairs closer, “Oh, pray tell,” snickers Hadrien. True to form, the cat bites him after allowing him to pet him for a bit. 

Over dinner, Lotor has them all in stitches as he recounts Nymuë’s truculent behaviour, much to her chagrin. Hadrien, in particular, laughed until he had tears in his eyes. Trajan couldn’t believe she told the Prince of the Galra Empire to “shut the fuck up.” Lotor did emphasize, however, that she exhibited immensurate kindness from the beginning, even when he had been an enemy, and that such purity would be surely be mistaken for an oleaginous affectation in the Galra empire. It did not escape Lotor’s notice that this was the one thing that made her parents more proud than any of her intellectual achievements.

“Oh my gawd,” groans Hadrien. “What the fuck does oleaginous even mean? You two were definitely made for each other.”

“It stems from the Latin root referring to oil...” starts Nymuë.

“OH MAH GAWD. See, what did I just say?”

“Do you not know oléagineux? We have the same word in French.”

“No, we don’t. It’s all lies.” 

“Denial is not just a river in Africa,” says Trajan dryly. The room erupts in laughter. “Besides, we all took organic chemistry. Oleic acid? Oleate? Kevin O’Leary?” More loud guffaws from the entire family. Nymuë had to explain that particular political joke to Lotor. 

 

They share their numerous adventures to the interspersed gasps of disbelief of everyone. They were all enthralled with Lotor’s eloquence, courage and ingenuity. 

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” exclaims Nerva. “Your own father tried to kill you?”

“Were it not for Nymuë’s keen deduction and gift of persuasion, he might have succeeded. I, too, owe her my life.” He looks at her affectionately and takes her hand. 

Hadrien can’t help himself. “Et tu, Brute?” Nymuë shoots him a dirty look and smacks him. “Mongrel reprobate,” she teases. 

“Starveling monkfish.”

Trajan speaks up after hearing his account. “As accomplished as all of us may seem, we’ve always said the true genius of the family is Nymuë. She has this incredible ability to predict multiple steps in advance and outmanoeuvre her opponents. None of us have been able to best her in a game of chess.” 

“‘Tis true. I most certainly would not be an Altean alchemist were it not for her brilliant assessment and analysis of the situation as a whole.”

“Ugh, you guys, stop. It’s nothing alright? Sir Isaac Newton would be groaning in his grave.”

Hadrien grins mischievously. “So you know how hard it is to become a garrison medic? Nymuë graduated with top honours and was the valedictorian for her class. Even so, she had to beat out all the top competitors from multiple Ivy League schools.”

“Hadrien! Stop it! I didn’t want to tell him any of that!” She hits him with a cushion. Lotor laughs at their amiable interactions but now realizes how she truly had treated him as one of her own when he had first been a foe. 

Charles was fascinated by the prospect of Alchemy. “So, Lotor, alchemy, you say? Please tell us more sometime. You know, Newton, who is one of Nymuë’s biggest inspirations spent a good portion of his life pursuing alchemic knowledge but alas, to no avail. Alchemy has since fallen into the realm of unscientific nonsense.” 

“Certainly. I will admit I am but a novice right now. The infusion of knowledge was an unbelievably ethereal experience, and the skills I’ve acquired necessitate much refinement.” Lotor felt invigorated by the intellectualism of her family. They were curious, eager, and modest while extraordinarily educated, cultured and knowledgeable. Such noble qualities, he thought. 

“Who’s up for scrabble then?” asks Charles after dinner. Lotor thanks her parents profusely for dinner and for their hospitality to which he received more fervent hugs. He couldn’t help but wonder if most humans were overflowing with affection. He says quietly to Nymuë’s mother, “I never knew my mother, Honerva. I would have liked to imagine she was not unlike you. There was an unexpected solace upon learning the similarities in your names.” Nerva’s eyes filled with tears and she hugged him again. “You are part of the family now. We are so happy to have you here.” Lotor looks at her with a grateful smile.

“I’m going to team up with Lotor so he can learn how to play,” announces Nymuë.

“Absolutely not,” says Hadrien.

“What, why?”

“Because I’m teaming up with him. You are too smart. You play by yourself. I already called dibs.”

“Hey! No, you didn’t!”

“Bep bep bep. Go over there, team Lambda-Moo-moo.” He physically pushes her to the other side. Lotor could definitely tell now who Nymuë takes after. 

“I’m teaming up with Père, if that’s the case,” says Trajan.

“Hey, you all know Maman doesn’t play. Fine!” She says petulantly, “Your bromance ships are all going down!”

It was the most intense game of scrabble ever played in the Beaumont household. For a time, team Trajan-Charles held the lead with obscure literary references. Lotor-Hadrien then overshadowed them with archaic words that only Lotor knew. However, Nymuë outflanked them all in the end and delivered the death knell with ‘quixotic’ on a triple letter and triple word score.

“Hey, how the fuck were you lucky enough to get both the ‘q’ and the ‘x’?

“There is neither good nor bad luck.” She pretends to meditate.

“What? Ugh.. come on Lotor, we have to kick her butt for that one.”

“A wise leader knows when to concede defeat,” he replies neutrally. Charles and Trajan thought that was hilarious and laughed out loud. 

“I like this guy,” declares Trajan. “We need to have a guys night with him.”

“Rematch tomorrow. Lotor was just warming-up.”

“Hey, you guys can’t team up against me again!”

“Oh, we can and we will. I have my ways,” Hadrien says darkly as he tackles her and tickles her until she can’t breath. 

Nerva brings out homemade apple pie à la mode at this point and it was the most delectable food Lotor had ever had. At the end of the evening, everyone was sublimely content after having had a delicious meal and engaging company. As everyone was about to retire to their bedrooms, her mother calls out for all to hear, “Don’t forget to use protection, you two.”

“MAMAN!” She cries out horrified and turns beet red to the snickers of her brothers. 

“Don’t be embarrassed Moo-moo. I mean, he’s a hot guy. Fuck’s sake, I’m a straight dude and I’m kinda into him.”

“I swear to god, Hadrien...” her brothers are laughing maniacally at this point.

Lotor chuckles and kisses her head. 

“Nymuë,” Lotor begins as they step into their room, “your family is more endearing and affable than I could have imagined. I never knew the incomprehensible joy that comes from loving parents and siblings. It is a privilege to be welcomed to this extent.”

She looks at him with great affection and says softly, “That’s why I brought you, love. You deserve to be happy.” 

Lotor pulls her into a tender kiss. “You will have to try to be quiet, Nymuë,” he says as he undresses her. “I have no intention of holding back when I make love to you tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charles taught his children Latin and ancient Greek when they were young. Nerva taught them Mandarin and Japanese.

Nymuë slept more deeply at home than she had in a long time. She was still fast asleep when Lotor awoke to the first light of the morning. He kissed her shoulder and admired her sleeping form before he got out of bed. The clothes that she had commissioned for him were some of the most comfortable garments in recent memory; he could become accustomed to sweats as they called them. That his hoodie had the same design as his battle armour was endlessly amusing to him. Everything in her home radiated with warmth and he was not looking forward to returning to the cold sterility of central command. Her parent’s house was fairly luxurious: it had a recreation room, music studio, library, and gymnasium. Charles had made it explicitly clear that he was welcome to all their amenities, and was not to hesitate to use them. The house was still quiet and dark so he grabs a glass of water and heads straight for the library. 

As he opens the door, he finds Charles already sitting in an armchair reading a book. “Good morning, son, come in, come in. Anything I can help you find?”

“Good morning,” begins Lotor as he scans the large array of books. Charles fondly notices the delight and wonder in his eyes. “I had hoped to learn about the five good emperors of the Roman Empire and discover why history has deemed them good. As you may have surmised, the inclement brutality and unmatched cruelty of the old regime was not conducive to teaching me anything about presiding with goodness.” 

Charles felt his heart clench with sympathy and sadness. He’d be damned if he was going to let Lotor leave before he knew the love of a father and the guidance of a teacher. “Son, I’m glad you came. Now, as much as I’d be delighted to walk you through the annals of history from Ancient Rome to the Byzantine Empire, giving you a pile of history books would be a dereliction of duty on my part. We must first equip you the proper measuring stick. Any historical record, any past event, can be manipulated to seem good or bad, depending on the observer or interpreter. Were those emperors good because they forwarded the interests of the empire? The answer is, it depends. So we must first start with the philosophies of morality.”

“I appreciate tremendously the wisdom you have imparted upon your children; it is clearly visible through their words and actions. The paladins would have been on the verge of handing me over to my father had she not compelled them with a stunning moral argument on my behalf. Additionally, the concept of noblesse oblige is so unequivocally anathema to pervasive Galra orthodoxy that I surely would have forfeited the final test on Oriande otherwise. I would be honoured to learn from you.”

Charles shakes his head and smiles. “I wish I could have been there to see it. She has an inherent morality that blazes against injustice; I merely gave her some tools to sharpen her reasoning.”

“I would perhaps describe it as an incendiary fire. One cannot help one’s immediate... affinity to it.” Charles looked at him with a bit of wonder at this admission. Love at first sight, you mean, he inwardly chuckles. He meets Lotor’s gaze. “Why don’t we have some breakfast first? Although truthfully, son, it sounds like you are already well on your way to being a good emperor.” Charles pats him on the shoulder and gives him a warm smile. 

The diffusive happiness from simple affirmation and fatherly affection was a completely novel experience for Lotor. The eons of abusive degradation and humiliation dried into empty husks, blown away by the winds of change. 

After breakfast, Charles soon discovered just how wickedly intelligent Lotor was. He listened with rapt attention and rapidly drew precise parallels from a vast encyclopedic knowledge. Lotor’s problem solving ability was second to none and it surprised him to think Nymuë could have found solutions that Lotor had not. His protégé, in reality, was a prodigy who simply lacked the right tools. Of the thousands of students and even tenured colleagues he had ever encountered, few could stand to rival him.

“My intentions of giving the populace unlimited amounts of quintessence to satisfy their needs and thus eliminate the rampant infighting seem to correlate most strongly with utilitarianism. However, Kant’s version of deontology seems to resonate thoroughly with me.”

“You are by no means limited to one philosophical subscription and we have just scratched the surface of western philosophy. There is much we can learn from the thinkers who preceded us. I’ve chosen a few superbly concise and engaging references for you to consider.”

“Hey, I found you guys!” shouts Hadrien, “Hey, Moo-moo, your nerdy boyfriend is studying philosophy with Papa when he’s supposed to be on vacation.”

“Says the doctor of neuroscience and astrophysics enthusiast.”

“Oh, touché, bro, touché,” Hadrien laughs and smacks him on the shoulder.

“Good morning, Hadrien. Would you like to join us?” Charles asks casually. 

“Um... I could. Or, whoa, dude, where’d you get that hoodie? I want one! It’s so cool.”

“Nymuë had it commissioned to resemble my battle armour.”

“WHAT? Fucking spaceballs at absolute zero, battle armour? You are the real deal. You’ll have to show it to me sometime. Hey, Moo-moo!! MOO-MOO!” Lotor chuckles at the fact that he employs an even more... colourful range of expletives than his sister does.

“What is it already? You’re going to wake up the founding fathers.” Nymuë appears in the doorway. She smiles at all of them and Lotor has difficulty looking away. The off-the-shoulder chartreuse shrug over her short persian-green dress was arresting.

“Wow, you’re not wearing black for once! Hey, I want one of these hoodies. Where do I get one?”

“Just say please, you omeganumpty.”

“Wha?”

“I knew you would want one. Here.” She pulls one out from behind her helps him try it on. Lotor could see the depth of affection for her siblings despite her previous self-imposed seclusion. “Now you can be one of his honorary generals. He’s had some job openings anyway since his previous generals went Animal Farm on him.” 

“What the fuck kind of Game of Thrones do you live in? Who hasn’t betrayed you? Thanks for the hoodie by the way. You’re the best, Moo. Sorry, Papa, no time for Sam Harris. I follow him on Twitter and I’ve already dog-eared the fuck out of The Moral Landscape. I’m stealing my bro so he can tell me all about this mutiny.” 

“You could always discuss Orwell and Harris in exchange for his secrets, then,” Nymuë says casually as she winks at Lotor. “He’s literally just come out of a dystopian universe and,” she looks at the books Lotor is holding, “is just starting to realize his plans align with utilitarianism - as such Harris would be quite provocative. I must say, however, that dog ears are blasphemy, and my soul is pained.”

“Yeah, good idea Moo-moo! And no, dog ears are environmentally friendly. One man’s pain is another man’s pleasure.”

“Pain vs. pleasure, eh? Might as well throw in Postman’s essay of Orwell vs. Huxley.”

Lotor grew suspicious of her. Had she anticipated this whole exchange with her brother under the guise of morning chit chat? How far in advance had she planned for this? He had to know. As Hadrien was dragging him away, he asks, “Did you enjoy your leisurely breakfast this morning?”

She winks again. “I did indeed have a lovely and prolonged conversation with Maman and Trajan.”

Charles shakes his head and smiles. They truly were made for each other. 

As Hadrien walks with Lotor to the gymnasium, Hadrien is the first to say, “Hey, man, I just wanted to thank you for saving Moo-moo. I...” Lotor notices his voice break a little. “I don’t know what I would have done if we lost her. She’s suffered so much and I couldn’t imagine...” he trails off and is unable to continue.

Lotor gives him a moment before he replies. “The first time was merely a renegotiation, if you will, of alliances. I could not have known who awaited me on the castle of lions. However, I often must banish the thought of how closely they brushed upon total annihilation. War is a wretched, merciless entity.” 

“You don’t like receiving thanks anymore than Moo-moo does.”

“Perhaps that is not untrue,” he smiles. “So, you mentioned that you have been attempting to ‘get Nymuë to open up’ for years.”

“Yeah, she’s been withdrawn ever since she lost her family. She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her when she’s with you.”

“My intention was to tell you, in fact, she is the happiest when you are around.”

“Wait, what?”

“She has spoken at length of her affection for all of you and it is clearly evident by her interactions. However, it seems you are the one she holds with the greatest esteem; perhaps you are unaware of the extent to which she imitates you?”

“I guess I haven’t seen her interact with other people very often. When she was younger, she would always refuse when we asked her to join us, but I always knew she was following us from a distance. As she grew older, she would finally hang out with us but she wouldn’t say much. I didn’t know she watched me so intently, though.”

“This is merely a guess on my part: while it was evident that her reclusivity was to stave off the potential heartache of loss, it was the anguish of distancing herself from you and her family that was threatening to overwhelm her. She had no recourse at the time that I met her. I happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Even so,” Hadrien says with a softer tone, “you connected with her in a way that none of us have been able to. It speaks to the character you have and the kindness she saw within you. She wouldn’t have done that with just anybody. There were other people with her in that castle. And she went down to your prison cell and poured her heart to you. I still can’t get over it, man.” He runs his hands through his hair. “This has been the most surreal 24 hours of my entire life.” 

“It has been a significant adjustment for myself as well. The complete absence of castigation and racial antipathy is a fair departure from what I am accustomed to.”

Hadrien furrows his brows for a moment. “Good lord almighty, start from the beginning. Tell me about all this ‘I’m gonna kill my own son ‘cuz I’m a vile, self-inhuming fuckoma’ bullshit, and those cephalolithotic bitchass generals of yours.” He pounds his fist into the wall. “Fuck’s sake, I wasn’t even there and it pisses me right off.”

Lotor laughs. Hadrien had a gift for the art of the insult. “For the record, Nymuë expresses righteous indignation in the same fashion.”

As Hadrien shows Lotor how to shoot a basketball, Trajan walks in and picks one up too. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you seriously wearing matching hoodies?”

“Moo-moo had them made to look like his battle armour. Can you believe it? I want battle armour!”

“The clothing you have here on earth is incomparably comfortable. I unfortunately cannot make the same claim for any type of Galra armour; it is, therefore, not a trade I would recommend.” 

Lotor, Trajan, and Hadrien spend the rest of the morning playing basketball, discussing philosophy and lamenting Lotor’s familial woes. It was interesting for Lotor to see their differences compared to their father. Whereas as Charles focused heavily on theory and abstraction, both brothers were overwhelmingly empirical in their philosophical approaches, drawing heavily from scientific evidence within the context of history. They were, of course, proficient in scientific methodology, and never strayed far from evidence-based practice. 

Lotor never anticipated that their fraternal bonds could fill a void he was unaware even existed. They were intellectually engaging, earnestly convicting and logically compelling. He felt they could push him to greater heights than he himself could achieve. What he treasured most, however, was the brotherly affection they showed him without any hesitation. That multiple people could possess the same kindness as Nymuë was still a surreal reality. 

“I must admit, I am reluctant to return to central command,” Lotor finds himself saying out loud. “Aside from my interactions with Nymuë, this has been the most intellectually rigorous morning I have had in many ages and I am deeply appreciative of your unreserved acceptance of me.”

Hadrien and Trajan look at each other. Hadrien is the first to hug him. “I love you too, bro.” Trajan laughs out loud and pats Lotor on the shoulder. “That’s what family is for, man. Wait a sec, is your hoodie customized?” He pulls Lotor’s sleeve which reads Lotor IMP IV and compares it to Hadrien’s, which reads, Hadrien IMP III. The names are set beneath a crest emblazoned with the insignia of the new empire.

“I had noticed the embroidery but did not understand the subsequent lettering.”

Trajan and Hadrien burst into laughter. “OMG, she didn’t do that! Maman is going to have an aneurysm!”

“The IMP stands for imperator in Latin which is how they denoted the title of emperor in Ancient Rome. The Roman numerals on yours and Hadrien’s say 4 and 3, respectively. This is an amazing coincidence, but ‘Lotor’ is Latin as well. It means the Cleanser which is some poetic justice for that murderous regime, eh? Hey, do you guys think Mu got me a hoodie too?” says Trajan hopefully.

None of them had noticed Nymuë had been watching them for a while in the doorway. She tosses a hoodie at him and it smacks him on the back of the head. “You guys ready for some lunch?” she asks excitedly. 

“Aw, thanks, Mu, I love my comfy battle armour,” Trajan says as he puts it on. He can’t resist searching for Trajan IMP II. 

As they walk to the kitchen, Lotor asks, “Is there a significance to the nicknames they call you? You seem to dislike Hadrien’s version, but not Trajan’s, which only differs marginally in pronunciation.”

“The middle syllable of my name corresponds to the Greek letter mu. Trajan came up with it when we were learning the Greek alphabet as children. Hadrien’s version is onomatopoeia of the sound of a cow.” 

“You know you love it, Moo-moo,” he laughs loudly. Lotor starts laughing too. 

Nymuë may have normally objected but she was glad Lotor was enjoying himself. She thought it was sweet how much they had all taken a liking to each other.

As they reached the kitchen, Hadrien casually stands close to Nerva and inconspicuously inspects the sleeve of her plain purple hoodie. Her name is clearly visible within the insignia. However, upon closer inspection, IMP I is embedded and only visible if one already knew to look. Trajan comes up and Hadrien discreetly points it out. Both of them burst into uncontrollable laughter causing Nerva to ask what on earth was wrong with them. Lotor and Nymuë weren’t far behind them. “Nothing Maman, dunno how Moo-moo MANages these jokes!” Hadrien finally says as he pulls Nymuë into a hug and loses his composure once more. Nerva knew they were laughing at her and shoots them all a dirty look. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think what Hadrien means by self-inhuming is that Zarkon was so decrepit, he was already burying himself. But nobody truly knows except Hadrien himself.  
> Fuckoma = cancerous fuck.  
> Cephalolithotic = appropriated medical terminology for head full of rocks.
> 
> Some of his epithets are otherwise purposely nonsensical.
> 
> There’s a comic version of Orwell vs. Huxley that you can check out if you are so inclined! This might be a stretch, but the juxtaposition of the fear-based vs. pleasure-based dystopias reminded me a bit of the contrast between the Galra empire vs. the Altean empire alternate reality.


	3. Chapter 3

After lunch, Hadrien looks at his phone and asks slyly, “Hey, when is Marcus coming?” 

“Wait, I thought he couldn’t come!” exclaims Nymuë. 

“Surprise, tous bous!” says a voice behind them.

“Marcus!” Nymuë jumps up and gives him a big hug. “It’s so good to see you, and that is still not funny,” she says as she kisses him and then slaps him. “How did you get away from work?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Slow day, today.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m an attorney, no one believes me anyway,” he says with ennui, to everyone’s chuckles. “Now, are you going to introduce me to... Christ on a crutch, Hadrien, he is hot. Motherfucker.”

Lotor was briefly bewildered. Nymuë’s family members were themselves very attractive; why they would compliment his appearance was incomprehensible. Male Galra did not typically express any such sentiments and he wasn’t about to change that now.

“Lotor, I’d like you to meet my only cousin on my dad’s side, Marcus. Marcus, this is Lotor, who incidentally does not refer to me as cow sounds or as ‘the oxen’ in ancient Greek in the wrong declension.” There were some loud cackles.

“Marcus’ appropriation of Moo-moo is actually quite funny,” Lotor admits.

“What? Not you too,” groans Nymuë to more laughter. 

Marcus embraces Lotor and kisses his cheeks. “It’s nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard a LOT about you. Hadrien has been blowing up my phone like a jealous girlfriend.”

“Jealous girlfriend, eh? I dunno, those two have a bit of a bromance going on,” Trajan interjects to everone’s snickers. 

“Judging by your choice of clothing, it looks more like a ménage à trois,” smirks Marcus. 

“Hey, you’re just jealous because you don’t have a Galra battle armour hoodie. Check it.” Hadrien shows the inscription of his name. “I’m Lotor’s honorary general,” he says with mock condescension. “Vrepit sa, bitch.”

“Speaking of appropriation, Lotor’s culture is not your prom dress,” Marcus retorts. More sniggering and cackles.

“I regret nothing. This looks beautiful on me.”

“Truth be told, c’est super cool and I kinda want one too.”

When the laughter had subsided, Lotor says, “I must ask, were your fathers co-conspirators in the naming of all their children? If so, is Marcus Aurelius your full name?”

“I was born a month after Hadrien, and Père, knowing that Mère was unfamiliar with Roman history, just suggested the name Antoninus. She hated it. So then he tried Marcus and she was quite amenable to it. So yes, my name is indeed Marcus Aurelius Beaumont.” Marcus takes note of the insignia on Lotor’s sleeve. “Never in my wildest dreams could I have known that our missing #4 would be a real emperor!”

Nymuë arrives to give Marcus his present. “Aw, thanks, tous bous, it’s not even Christmas yet.” He, of course, searches immediately for his personalized badge. Having heard of Lotor’s tragic circumstances, he appreciated the lengths to which Nymuë went to welcome him. The insignias were a subtle yet powerful gesture of inclusion, prescribing belonging amidst of a world of rejection. Marcus also felt determined to welcome his new brother as much as possible. 

It was brisk and sunny so they opted to go for a walk in the woods adjacent to their neighbourhood. Marcus took this chance to walk with him and ask about life in the empire.

“So this Zarkon, if I’m understanding correctly, acted as judge, jury and executioner, then?” Marcus asks.

“Essentially, yes. We do not have a separate judiciary branch as you do here, nor do we have due process. Having only touched upon the exactitude of your legal and penal systems, it would have been preferable had I more time to study and learn from them.”

“I would love to walk you through constitutional and criminal law sometime. I’m sorry, Lotor, that you had to endure such egregious injustices and watch your comrades suffer the horrors of torture. While our system is far from perfect, individuals have protected rights in this country: life, liberty and security of person are legal rights. Torture is expressly prohibited. Freedom of conscience, of peaceful assembly, of thought and of expression are examples of fundamental freedoms. Our constitution and bill of rights are the cornerstone of our country, and of our identity.”

“You can speak against the leaders of the country without fear of reprimand or pain of death?”

“Absolutely. However, freedom of speech only refers to protection from governmental retribution; it is not synonymous with freedom from consequences, particularly if what you say is stupid, racist, or hateful.”

“Duly noted,” Lotor says with a chuckle. 

Lotor asks Marcus about lawyers and their duties. Lawyers did not exist in the empire and he was fascinated by how rule of law seemed so equitable, fair and just. Innocence until proven guilty was so foreign a concept, it was nearly unfathomable, yet it was completely logical under the protections of legal freedoms.”

“What a utopian society you live in. So absolute was my father’s regime, such liberties were but mere fantasy.”

“The impetus for guarding such justice and liberty was a heavy toll; millions upon millions of people have given their lives to uphold this peace. We remember them each year, lest we forget and succumb to the manifold consequences of ignorance and fear. Lotor, I wanted to say, I am at your service. Should you require any assistance in the building of a new society, I would be happy to lend you a hand. And,” he grins wryly, “even if you just want to talk about girl problems, I’m here for you bro.”

“Hey!” exclaims Nymuë. 

“What? It’s not like you’re never going to get on his nerves.”

“Lotor doesn’t get mad at anything and literally never loses his calm. Even when he had been betrayed by his generals the second time, he was just like, yup, gall-less, quisling fucklumps of puke, next.”

“Anger impairs higher cognitive function. It would be imprudent to lose one’s reasoning faculties when the stakes are high.” Lotor replies with a laugh. 

“I still can’t believe they betrayed you a second time!” cries Hadrien. “I’d like to punch them all the fucking face!” 

“Lotor, I’ve been meaning to ask. You had a chance to kill Acxa during the hostage exchange but you spared her life. Why?” asks Trajan.

“So I could punch her in the face,” says Hadrien to everyone’s chuckles.

“She did what she had to do. As did I. Incapacitating her was sufficient. I was focused on defeating Zarkon.”

“You are already an amazing leader. Can’t wait to see how you effect change in your empire.” Marcus says warmly.

“I appreciate all of your support, Marcus. I regret that I do not have more time with all of you but I can supply you with transceivers to maintain contact after our departure.”

Hadrien catches the gaze of Trajan and then Marcus. This does not escape Nymuë’s notice. “What are you guys plotting now?”

“Nothing, Moo-moo, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The remainder of their short excursion is spent exploring the wintry trails and reminiscing upon their childhood jaunts. Marcus’ sharp wit coupled with Hadrien’s gregarious personality kept everyone laughing continuously. They caught glimpses of wild deer stripping the trees of their bark and of fluttering chickadees twittering amongst themselves. Lotor loved every moment of it, the crisp snow underfoot, the cool winter breeze, the company of... family. 

The merry band returned home in time for a robust dinner courtesy of both Charles and Nerva. It was some of the most delicious food Lotor had ever tasted. Life on earth was a veritable paradise. Conversation remained light and cheerful, with Nerva telling stories of their childhood antics. The longer he spent revelling in their company, however, the heavier the dread and despair he had been fleeing became. It had finally caught up to him, and like a mantling hawk subduing its prey, there was nowhere left to run.


	4. Chapter 4

While the rest of the family was enjoying themselves in the rec room, Lotor quickly whisked Nymuë away to their bedroom that night. He shoved aside the suffocating heartache he was feeling; if he had to say good-bye, he just wanted her one last time. He pushed her down on the bed. Nymuë couldn’t suppress her cries this time, he was so forceful and desperate. Breathlessly, she asks, “Love, what’s wrong?”

He was caught off guard as he hadn’t even realized he was acting differently. “I...” he pauses for a while and finally manages, “How do you know?”

“You’re acting as if this is the last time you are going to see me.” She holds his face to hers. “If something is troubling you so deeply, you needn’t shoulder it alone.”

He gathers her into his arms and brings her head to rest on him. “I cannot conceal much from you, as always.” There is a long pause. “Nymuë, you are filled with happiness when you are with your family, and in particular, with Hadrien. I do not wish to deprive you of it and therefore, cannot ask the immense sacrifice of returning with me to the emptiness of the empire.” Another pause. Lotor pushes on, however, before he chokes on his words. “You are the most beautiful and wildly intelligent woman I have encountered in the entirety of my life. Surely, any man on this planet would...”

She touches his lips with her fingers. “... would not be you. I know how hard it must have been to say those words. But you must know that the emptiness of the empire would be eclipsed by the emptiness of a life without you. I love you.”

“Perhaps I am not the man you think me to be. After speaking with your family today,” he swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to say the following words, “I now acknowledge that I have been fleeing the reality that I am a cold-blooded murderer not unlike my father.” Admitting it out loud crushed him inside and he felt he was one the verge of breaking. 

“That has weighed upon you since Zarkon’s death, hasn’t it?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you truly believe it?”

“I do not wish to but the truth is not subject to our desires.”

“Is our perception of truth, however, not skewed by our insecurities and fears?” Nymuë sits up and cradles his head. “Perhaps the ignobility and ruthlessness of the empire coloured you, but you have not allowed it to define you or become you. Zarkon was beyond redemption and death was ultimately his salvation. Our moral obligations are not so rigid that they can not accommodate circumstance and exception.”

“You are aware that I have eliminated many people, including my late quisling general?” 

“But you already know we are not beholden to our past. You said so yourself, love, that people can change.”

“I do not fully understand why no one in your family is holding me accountable for my actions, while they continue to withhold due condemnation and judgement.”

“It would be easier if one of us was angry with you, wouldn’t it? Sometimes, the hardest person to forgive is yourself. ‘One who conquers others is strong, but one who conquers himself is all-powerful.’ A true cold-blooded murderer would be incapable of the type of selfless and noble love you just demonstrated.”

It was comforting to be affirmed in this manner while being held by her. He kisses her collarbone and rests his head on her chest. She then strokes his silvery hair and kisses his head. 

“You are nothing like the corrupted version of your father, Lotor. You intrinsically value life and have saved many that would have perished under his reign of terror. One can lie without being a liar, and by the same token, one can kill without being a murderer. Even if that reasoning seems insufficient, I love you, and I will go anywhere you go.”

“Thank you, Nymuë. To anyone else, it would seem foolhardy to follow me into an abyss of darkness but I am not unfamiliar with your insensible affection.”

“Did you just... did you call my love punch drunk?” How she loved his prose. “Well, then, shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.” 

“Shakespeare?” He chuckles.

“Yeah,” she holds him tightly to her. Lotor was unable to say more. The relief that he had not lost her, and the repose in knowing that he was not as evil as he had feared were palpable. He breathed in her scent and relished the intimacy they shared in that moment. 

“Hey, you know Coran?” 

“It seems like an... inopportune time to mention him.” Nymuë laughs at Lotor’s expression.

“Oh, should I not mention his pedantic, avuncular charm during our most intimate moments?” She imitates his ‘my name is Coran and I’m a gorgeous man,’ and was glad to elicit some chuckles from him. 

“You know, he knew Zarkon before he became corrupted. Have you ever spoken with someone who knew the real him?”

Lotor furrows his eyebrows. He had long considered this a lost cause. Few had survived from the old era. Additionally, since Coran had so frequently been at odds with him, it simply never occurred to him to ask. 

“It might give you some closure, love, to know that the Zarkon who caused you so much pain was not the man who would have loved and cherished you and your mother.”

“I shall contact him after we return. Thank you, Nymuë. It is ever a mystery that you can be so adept at perceiving the unspoken.”

“I think that’s just called empathy, silly.”

He smiles gently and brushes her hair from her face. “I am typically reticent with such sentiments but I was able to acknowledge them when you embraced me for the first time.” He drops his voice to whisper. “If I am honest, however, I have loved you since the first day I met you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to think that for a brief moment, the real Zarkon had a moment of lucidity right before his death. So, in time for Father’s Day, here’s a sad little reflection rewritten from Don’t Look Back in Anger by Oasis.

My life is one I cannot rewind,  
I wasn’t of a sound mind,  
What can I really say,  
They called me a murderous fiend,  
How they wailed and they keened,  
Can’t see their dismay.

So he brought a revolution that he led,  
‘Cause I declared open season on his head.  
“Step aside, ‘cause hubris is your doom,  
Look at the hurt that’s on his face,  
Wipe your hands of your disgrace.”  
He will never hear the things my heart cries out.

And so Lotor can wait, I know it’s too late as he’s walkin’ on by.  
My soul slides away, but don’t look back in anger, I heard him say. 

I banished him, why, I don’t even know,  
It was so long ago, that I sent him away.  
As a child, never once held his hand,  
And only now understand,  
I yearn for yesterday

So he brought a revolution that he led,  
‘Cause I declared open season on his head.  
“Step aside, ‘cause hubris is your doom,  
Look at the hurt that’s on his face,  
Wipe your hands of your disgrace.”  
He will never hear the things my heart cries out.

So Lotor can wait, I know it’s too late as he’s walkin’ on by.  
My soul slides away, but don’t look back in anger, I heard him say.  
So Lotor can wait, I know it’s too late as he’s walkin’ on by.  
My soul slides away, but don’t look back in anger,  
Don’t look back in anger, I heard him say.  
At least not today


End file.
